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This diary entry is written by ‹stickyvaporeon›. ( View all entries )
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Tuesday, 24 June 2014
11:29:12 PM (GMT)
the wings open from inside me 
blurring the lines across my scapulae 
white-- then red, black 
and I suffer twice 

once my spine is removed from my body 
I wait for a new one to grow
remove ribs, one, two, three, 
four, five, six, 
finally I have enough 
and I piece the bones together to make a ladder 
and I climb high into the tree branches 
and I climb through the tree branches and into the clouds 
and I climb higher until I'm held suspended in the air by my thoughts 
and my thoughts make me suffer 

because I remember words I do not wish to recall 
awful words, like 'baby' 
things I don't want to know that I know 

my body is so heavy, being weighed down 
with water, dew collecting on my skin, condensation, 
my wings are heavy with rain 
and I give in, so easily 
and falling feels like being buried 
because I can feel the weight upon me
the weight of all the water in the air 
the weight of all the water in me 
and I'm dead before I even hit the ground

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